


Uncontrolled Descent

by Minxie



Series: Chase/Josh verse [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Dive Fic, KINK: D/s, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-30
Updated: 2012-04-30
Packaged: 2017-11-04 14:35:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/394940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minxie/pseuds/Minxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once burnt, twice shy. It's the motto Chase lives by. At least it is until Josh stumbles into his life and makes more waves than a hurricane.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uncontrolled Descent

**Author's Note:**

> **Prereaders:** @shinyredrain, @thraceadams, and @aislinntlc  
>  **AN:** Just a thank you to everyone who offered so much help and assistance when my family needed it most. ♥s you all like whoa!

"Oh, come on, Trent." Transferring his glare between the charter notice in his hands and his boss, Chase asks, "Why can't we send them out with Willie?" 

Arching one bushy grey eyebrow, Trenton snorts. "One cross word and that boy'd leave 'em out there to drown."

"Not seeing the problem," Chase grumbles. "Why'd you take the charter anyway? Not like you care about those scuttled wrecks anyhow."

"Government or not, their money is just as green as yours." Trent rocks back in his chair, a smug look flittering across his face. "'Sides, I'm charging them double."

Chase barks out a laugh. The weatherworn skin and gnarled hands belie the razor-sharp wit of the older man. Chase hopes he's as feisty when he's knocking on the high side of seventy. "Double, huh?"

"Damn right," Trent mutters.

"You know I don't mix well with suits." Pulling off his ball cap, Chase drags a hand through his spiky black hair, asking, "Why me?"

"They're researching exactly what kind of life is calling those wrecks home. Inside and out, day and night. They plan on penetrating the wrecks." Trent waves one crooked finger at Chase. "You're the best diver I got. All that military training you got behind you."

Ten years of military training. Seven of it spent ass deep in the brotherhood that is a SEAL team. More than a quarter of Chase's life he'd rather not talk about. He hasn't had enough time away from it to go back there yet. He doubts he ever will.

Trent pulls Chase away from his thoughts with a serious, "I expect you to not let 'em kill themselves down there, Chase. One of them spends time on the water, but nowhere near enough in it."

"Christ," Chase sighs. "Nothing like high expectations. Experience?"

"They have it or I'd have told them no. One of 'em just needs more of it before he night dives with us." Trent swings his chair around and, rifling through a stack of papers, says, "Made them fax me their c-cards and log books. They've been wreck diving before. Here," he turns back and tosses a folder onto the desk in front of Chase. "Go through it, get to know 'em. You'll be bunking with 'em for eight days."

"Bunking with them?" 

"Oh," Trent's eyes light up with amusement. "Did I forget to mention that? They're booking a 'round the clock tour. Eight days total, four wrecks. Four days out for the upper two wrecks, a half day back in here, and then four days for the Thunderbolt and Cayman Salvage."

"Goddamn you, you old coot." Chase snatches the folder off the desk and starts flipping through the pages. "How many?"

"Just two. Mark Jacobs, decent enough fellow, if a little squirrely. And a kid named Wilkerson. Never met him before, but," Trent takes a large swallow of coffee, "he's the only one I approved for diving those wrecks at night."

Chase scans Joshua Wilkerson's logbook and certification card. The man has experience. Enough that the tension in Chase's shoulders starts to ease. The fact that Chase knows Joshua's dive instructor helps. "This Wilkerson is a local boy. Got his cert with Jack Sambras five years ago," Chase says, more for himself than for Trent's benefit. "You riding shotgun on this?" 

Shaking his head, Trent says, "Kate. She's good for the daytime dives and steady at the helm." Trent points at the papers, "Take those home, boy, and go through 'em. Come back tomorrow ready to make a plan."

"A plan that doesn't include letting them die," Chase says, eyebrow cocked high.

Trent laughs, a deep rumble of sound stained by too many years living off of cigarettes and whiskey. "See, now you're beginning to understand."

* * *

"Called Jack last night," Chase says in lieu of hello. 

Kate and Trent look away from the map spread across the counter and focus on Chase. "Yeah," Kate says, "And what'd he have to say?"

"He's taken both of them out to wrecks off Biscayne. Wilkerson is the better diver, follows the rules. Scatter-brained if something catches his interest. Jacobs will catch a drift and be off-course if he isn't watched." Leaning against the doorjamb, Chase looks hard at Trent. "And Wilkerson is close to my age. So, not much of a kid, yeah?"

Trent waves him off. "To me, you're a kid. Little Katie here is a baby, still wet behind the ears."

Kate tosses a wadded piece of paper at Trent and then, brown eyes questioning Chase on a level he kind of hates, asks, "That all Jack had to say?"

Shrugging, he says, "All that matters."

She arches a brow.

"The rest of it –" the opinion that Joshua Wilkerson is smart beyond reasonable with a wicked sense of humor, a little on the subby side and easy enough to look at "– is personal."

"Uh huh," Kate drawls. "Well, while you were playing gossip queen with Jack, I actually called some of the other charters around here. We might want to go west first, save the Bibb and Eagle for the second run. Rory has a huge thing set for the Cayman; it'll be crawling with tourists if we save it for last."

Chase wrinkles his nose. He has a severe dislike going for once-a-year divers. "These guys are looking for specific data; they'll need time to watch. Tripping over more divers than fish wouldn't be a good thing."

Kate chuckles. "Not to mention how much _you_ hate crowded dives."

"I'm a dive snob, what can I say?" Chase retorts, unrepentant. "They'll be here in the morning?"

Trent nods. "Sometime between seven and seven-thirty, depending on traffic. The _kid_ –" Trent shoots Chase a smirk "– is driving in from Largo."

Chase rolls his eyes and then looks at Kate, directing his question to her. "So tomorrow we round Key West and anchor off the Cayman for two days?"

"Yeah," Kate says. "Then track back to Marathon. Puts us close to home to restock everything for the final four days."

"Hit the Bibb and then end with the Eagle?" It's what Chase would do, but team playing means he at least hears Kate out. It doesn't mean he's going to do it her way, though.

"Yeah, makes the most sense." Kate makes notes on map. "That gives us one night to dive each wreck."

"I'll buddy with Wilkerson during the day so we can mark the route we're taking at night."

Tapping her pencil against the map, Kate asks, "You think they'll go for that? They might be used to diving together, yanno."

"Then they'll have to get unused to it." Chase pushes off from the doorframe. "I'm not going in at night unless I work with him during the day."

"Good on you," Trent says. "Put your foot down, and if they argue too much, turn the Rapscallion around and come home."

"The Rapscallion?" Chase whistles. "Wow, you never let her out of your sight."

"Time for me to start trusting you with her, boy," Trent replies, churlish. "You're as big a part of High Seas as I am. Besides, not like I'm gonna be around forever, you know."

"Trent?"

"No, nothing's wrong. Nothing outside the fact that I'm an old man." With both hands on the desk, Trent pushes to a stand. "She's five-by-five, ready to go. Fresh water in the tanks, galley stocked enough for twice as long as you'll be out."

Chase rolls his lips together, bites back the desire to call Trent out on his health. Taking a deep breath, he says, "When this charter is over…"

"If there is anything that needs saying," Trent retorts, "I'd have said it already."

Chase watches as Trent shuffles his way around the desk. The man, more like a father than a boss, is aging far too rapidly for Chase's peace of mind. "Let a guy buy you a beer?"

"Add some conch fritters to it and I'll take you up on that offer."

Laughing, Chase holds the door open. "Come on, you conniving old man. I'll even drive you home after, walk you to your door."

"Gonna give me a g'night kiss too?"

"Hell no," Chase says around a loud burst of laughter. "You're way too much man for me."

* * *

"Trent's walking them down from the office," Kate says, tossing her duffel onto the deck. "Jacobs is everything you picture in a mad scientist. Willie would have totally left him out there to drown. Hell, if he lives up to his appearance, I might be tempted to leave him sculling water for a couple of hours."

Laughing, Chase picks up Kate's bag. "People ever tell you you're a bitch?"

"All the time, sweetheart," Kate says, flipping him off. "Here they come, time to put your game face on."

Chase cants his head, cuts his glance to the side, taking a covert assessment of the two men he'll be entertaining for the next eight days. He almost laughs when he sees Jacobs. Mad scientist one word for it. The word dork rushes fast and furious in Chase's mind as another option.

Then, when his gaze focuses on who has to be Josh Wilkerson, Chase curses under his breath. Jack Sambras is a lying son-of-a-bitch. And Chase plans on telling him that the next time he drives up to Miami. He might even make a special trip for it. 

With a disbelieving huff, Chase makes another head-to-toe pass of Wilkerson. Russet-brown eyes and messy sun-streaked brown hair; shorter than Chase by a few inches, broader by a few inches more. The man is way past pretty enough, much closer to a hot mess of walking sex. And, if Chase is reading Josh right, Jack's muttered _a little on the subby side_ doesn't even begin to cover it. From the look of it, Joshua Wilkerson has a submissive streak a mile wide.

Josh is exactly the kind of pretty Chase left the Navy for. And that worked out so well Chase hasn't invited pretty back into his bed for years now. 

Doesn't mean he's stopped _wanting_ it though. 

Watching Josh heft his bag onto his shoulder and straddle the side of the boat, taking in the bunching and releasing muscles in his thighs and across his shoulders, Chase feels the telltale tightening in his groin and curses again. This charter has trouble stamped all over it now. Sliding his sunglasses into place, Chase shakes his head and mutters, "Christ. Get it together, Jackson."

Picturing Josh on his knees is all too easy for Chase. It's a distraction he hadn't counted on.

Then, before he can find a plausible escape, Josh is on-board and standing right in front of him. Hand stuck out in greeting, the man unleashes a lethal smile. "Josh Wilkerson."

"Chase Jackson," he replies, automatically taking the hand on offer. The warm, callused hand. Attached to a man with eyes so expressive that Chase is pretty sure he'd do illegal shit just to watch them light up. Great. The next eight days can't go by fast enough. "Welcome aboard the Rapscallion."

"She's a gorgeous boat," Josh says. "You know, y'all could've left all of our stuff. We would've carried it on after signing the papers."

Chase shrugs, the easy roll of his shoulders letting on none of the tension coiling in his gut. "Beat just standing around. Besides, now we can head out instead of spend time loading up. It'll take us a few hours to reach the first dive site."

On cue, the engines turn over. "It sounds like… Kate, right?"

Chase nods, "Yup, Kate."

"Sounds like Kate's just as eager as you are to get started." Josh looks around.

"It's a good day to be out on the water," Chase replies, kicking himself for the lame attempts at conversation. He used to be much better at this. 

"Is there ever a bad day to be on the water?" Josh returns. "Really?"

The comment startles a laugh out of Chase. Right along with the heavy weight of nerves twisting in his stomach. Before he can reply though, a shout for Josh echoes up from below.

"And Mark is already working. Guess I should get down there and help sort all of our crap out." Josh steps back, stopping before he reaches the stairs. "Later?"

"I'm sure," Chase murmurs. He waits until Josh disappears below, then takes the short ladder to the cockpit and drops into the seat beside Kate with a sigh. "I'm fucked."

"Finally found your way up here, huh," Kate says, chuckling. "I was beginning to wonder if you two were gonna spend the whole trip staring at each other."

"Fuck off."

"Whatever," and she laughs even harder. "You know you love me."

"Doesn't mean I'm above tossing your ass overboard." Chase stands up and motions to the wheel. "Let me take over here."

Kate arches a brow. "Why?"

"I could tell you that it's because Trent is a stingy bastard with this boat and I want a chance at her while I got it," Chase says, sliding into the seat as soon as Kate stands up.

"Or you can tell me the truth."

Swallowing, Chase admits, "Was tempted to follow him downstairs."

"God," Kate says, shaking her head. "Just don't fuck him where I have to watch, okay?"

"Won't be fucking him at all. Shouldn't even be thinking about it." Chase looks out over the water. "He's too pretty."

"You know, being pretty isn't what made Steve a colossal ass. Even if he'd been dog ugly, he'd still be the fucktard that broke your heart." Kate taps Chase on the shoulders. "You need to stop pushing the pretty ones away. You deserve a chance at happy, baby."

"Josh is a client."

"Who was all but climbing you like a tree." Kate steps away. "Seriously, Chase, stop being an idiot. It's annoying."

"Yes, ma'am." The perfect salute he fires off is ruined when he rolls his eyes. "Where're you going?"

"Downstairs to be in the way, see if I can wrangle the professor into coming topside for a while." Kate bats her eyes and gives Chase an innocent smile. "Maybe Josh will find his way up here."

"Uh huh," Chase says. "You could just stay out of it, you know?"

Heading down the ladder, she retorts, "Where's the fun in that?"

* * *

Chase isn't surprised at all when, close to forty minutes later, Josh drops into the chair next to him. Kate on mission is a woman to contend with. She rarely misses her mark. 

"Kate is a godsend," Josh says, passing Chase a cold can of pop.

Taking the drink, Chase arches a brow.

"She saved me from at least another hour of _preparation_." Josh shudders dramatically. "Prep should never be that boring."

Chase chokes on a mouthful of Coke, the bubbles tingling as he snorts it through his nose. Dragging his t-shirt across his face, he tries to glare at Josh. By the grin on Josh's face, the attempt is a total failure. Pushing away the voice of reason, the one reminding him that Josh is a client _and_ that he's way too pretty to be fucking around with, Chase says, "You are a brat, Joshua Wilkerson."

"What?" There is nothing but pure devilment flashing in Josh's eyes. "Prep should always be interesting and engaging, something to whet the appetite. I mean, seriously, if the prep puts someone to sleep? You're doing it wrong."

Shifting in the chair, Chase tries to adjust his growing cock. "Joshua."

"Chase," Josh returns, eyes darkening to a deep chocolate brown. 

"You're playing with fire, boy."

"I certainly hope so." Josh glances over his shoulder, watching as Kate comes up the ladder, Mark Jacobs following not two steps behind her. Looking back to Chase, he says, "The hotter the better."

"What're you bending his ear about, Josh?" 

One look at Mark and Chase is biting his lip to hold back a completely inappropriate comment. Even in swim trunks and a tank the man looks completely out of place. Hoping to change the course of the conversation, Chase asks, "Ready for our first dive, Mr. Jacobs?"

"Mark, please. And, yes, I am." Mark bounces one the balls of his feet. "Kate was just telling me that we'll be going down in split pairs. Josh and I usually dive together."

"Yes, sir," Chase says, nodding. "Because of the night dives, however, it's imperative that Josh and I partner up during the day. We'll need to map the route we're going to take while the sun is up. Not to mention, if Josh and I are doing the night dives, a majority of the daytime dives will be left to you and Kate."

"Understandable. It's just…"

"Kate's an excellent diver, Mark. You'll be in really good hands down there."

Chase shares an amused look with Kate when a blush steals over Mark's face. 

"So, what was the hotter the better about?" Kate asks.

"Really throwing you overboard," Chase mutters just as Josh says, "Food. Chase and I were talking Mexican. I was thinking of dinner out when we dock again."

"Mexican," Kate repeats, lips twitching dangerously close to a grin.

"Mexican," Chase confirms, playing along. The fact that Kate has that knowing look again, that she has clued in to what they were really talking about, is not lost on him. "Been a while since I've had any."

"Couple of years, at least, right?" 

Chase doesn't know if he wants to kiss Kate or kill her. She's letting enough out to establish both the level of their friendship and the fact that it's been a while since Chase had a partner, that he isn't the man-whore he could be. The conversation between the three of them, between Josh, Kate, and himself, is suddenly digging a whole lot deeper than he expected – _wanted_ – it to go. 

Josh's eyes go wide. "How is that even possible?"

Kate flashes Chase a look, a daring one that has Chase's muscles tensing, and then deadpans, "Indigestion. Days' worth. Put him off Mexican entirely."

"It almost sounds like he had food poisoning," Mark says.

"It may have been," Kate replies, more straight-faced than Chase thinks should be possible. "He's avoided Mexican since."

The conversation is too much for Chase. He closes his eyes and struggles to not laugh. Or rage and scream. The line between the two is getting very blurry.

"Enough about food," Chase says, intent on ending the madness. "We'll be on top of the Cayman Salvage in about another half hour. Kate, you want to anchor us or set the gear out?"

"You look comfortable, I'll go change and start bringing the tanks up," Kate answers, more subdued than just moments before. "Mark, why don't you come on down, too. We'll have to rotate in and out getting changed."

Chase doesn't spare them a glance, just listens to the sound of two people descending the ladder.

"So, wow," Josh says. "Wasn't expecting that."

Snorting, Chase shakes his head. "I should have. Known Kate too long to not have seen it coming."

"Chase…"

"No, Joshua," Chase interrupts, tone brooking no argument. "Not now."

With a hard glint in his eyes, Josh nods. "Okay, not now. But definitely later."

"Perhaps," Chase murmurs. "Perhaps not."

"Something's already started here. It started the minute I came on board," Josh replies, pushing to a stand. "Ignoring it won't be easy. You know it as well as I do."

Chase says nothing, neither denying nor confirming. 

"That's what I thought," Josh says, giving Chase another one of those wide-open smiles. "I'll be ready to buddy check when you are."

* * *

For all of his flirting, Josh is all business once he rolls into the water. It's a trait Chase would appreciate more if the man didn't look so good, so damn edible in his dive gear. There is no way his own wetsuit is going to hide the heavy weight of his cock.

Chase closes his eyes and drifts in the warm currents, willing his body to yield to his wishes.

It doesn't work. At all.

Blinking his eyes open, Chase tracks Josh as he moves from point to point along the wreck. 

Kicking his feet, he slowly makes his way closer to Josh's side, taking note of which animals Josh snaps pictures of, what kind of information he's scribbling on his wrist slate. He watches as Josh's eyes widen behind his mask, and a smile curves around his mouthpiece. Josh's excitement is an almost tangible thing.

Chase remembers when diving was like that for him. When each time was a new adventure, something to look forward to. He knows when it changed, too. When disappearing beneath the glass ceiling of the water became a hiding place, an escape from real life.

Awash in the energy that Josh unwittingly throws off, Chase wants that again. Wants to find the joy and enthusiasm, the pleasure of the dive again.

That's not the only thing he wants.

He wants Josh. And it's more than to just fuck him. So much more.

If he thought for an instant that fucking Josh would bank the fire burning in his veins, he'd be all for throwing the man down on the galley table and marking paid to that endeavor. But fucking him would never be enough.

The instant attraction had been startling. But the ridiculous connection, the one he can feel all the way to his toes, is the problem. Because it's the connection, the way that even in such a few short hours they're moving together as a unit, that has Chase wanting to hold Josh down and _make_ him take it.

He wants to bite and mark him, wants to hear Josh beg. Beg to be claimed, to be fucked. Beg for more, and for mercy. 

Chase doesn't want to just fuck Josh. He wants to _own_ him.

Sculling the water with his hands, Chase moves back through the water, putting distance between him and the temptation. 

A professional amount of distance.

From here on out, he promises himself, he'll keep it professional. 

No flirting. No personal conversations. Nothing but the dive.

Keep it professional, that's his goal. A professional eight day dive and then, within week after that, he'll forget all about Josh Wilkerson and his pretty eyes and cocky little grin.

Chase figures if he repeats it enough, he'll believe it. Eventually. Maybe.

Then he cuts another fast glance at Josh and frowns.

It's going to take a helluva longer than a week to banish this piece of pretty from his thoughts.

* * *

Three dives and eighteen hours later, Chase knows his plan to avoid Josh is going to be a total bust. The Rapscallion is too small to honestly avoid anyone. Such is life on the water. He's not as upset about that fact as he thinks he should be.

His instincts to control and to protect, to _dominate_ , are pushing him into overdrive and Josh is just letting him – fucking _letting him_ – stomp all over everything and make demands. He smiles softly and nods, asks before he leaps. He takes everything Chase dishes out and wallows in it, pretty as you please.

It's disconcerting. And arousing. Really, _really_ arousing. 

Which makes it even more troubling for Chase. 

Because a Josh that didn't meld so easily with Chase's lifestyle, with his desires and needs, would be a Josh that Chase could talk himself away from. 

Instead all that is happening is he's wanting more and more and _more_ of Josh. More of his laughs and the coy grins. More of the snarky comments and the raunchy sense of humor.

And more skin. A lot more skin. 

He simply wants more.

Shaking his head, Chase sighs. He's so fucked he'd laugh if he thought it'd help.

* * *

Chase pops open a beer and claims one of the deck chairs as his. This is the part he loves with the longer cruises: anchored down with a night to simply enjoy the smell of the salt air. Staring out over the inky black of the water, Chase takes a long draw of his beer and lets the barely there rocking of the boat lull him into relaxing.

He plots out the next five days in his mind. Morning dive tomorrow, then they head in to pump out the greywater, refill the fresh. A few hours to top off the fuel and take care of the dive tanks, restock the galley. Maybe time to run by his house and grab his other dive skin. Then right back out on the open water for four more days.

Four more days of Josh slinking around the deck in baggy board shorts and no shirt. Four more days of fighting off the urge to drag his fingers over Josh's abs, down his back. Scraping and scratching.

He's skin hungry for the man. Which is ridiculous considering he hasn't touched Josh. Not really. Not in all the ways that count.

Chase can't wait for this tour to end.

He's about at the edge of his limits where Josh is concerned. The want, the fucking desire to possess, has him in a near constant state of arousal. Because, fuck, how he _wants_. Wants Josh like a mad, burning thing. 

"Want to be alone? Or can I…" Josh motions towards an empty chair with his beer bottle.

Think of the devil and he's sure to appear. Sighing, Chase shakes his head and says, "Too pretty of a night to not share it."

"You sure?" Josh drags a hand through his hair. "I'm not the type of man to go where I'm not wanted. And you can't seem to decide if you want me around or not."

"'M sure," Chase replies, not really sure at all. Then, when Josh simply stands there, he adds, "Sit down, Josh."

Minutes tick off – _one… two… five…_ – and a comfortable silence builds between them. Then Chase snorts.

One eyebrow arching, Josh asks, "What?"

"Me," Chase says. "This. You. Take your pick."

"You're uncomfortable." Josh tilts his head to the side. "I make you uncomfortable."

"What you represent makes me uncomfortable," Chase corrects. 

"Tell me?"

Chase opens his mouth to say no, to tell Josh that rehashing old hurts isn't the way he rolls. Instead, ignoring the warning bells flashing in his head, he says, "His name was Steve."

Tipping the bottle against his lips, Chase drains the last half of the beer in two deep swallows. He thinks about grabbing another one, maybe taking it up a notch and ferreting out the Jack hidden away in the galley. Then, with a shake of his head, he pushes the idea aside. He's never hid behind the refraction of a whiskey bottle before. He isn't going to start now. "I gave up the Navy for him."

"And then he gave up on you." 

"Yeah," Chase says. "That's one way to put it. Came in early from a night dive to find him in _our_ bed with some tourist from Montana. A random hook up, and apparently not the first."

"Fuck," Josh hisses, the word drawing out on a ragged breath. 

"Oh, yeah." Chase huffs a sardonic chuckle. "That was a little over two years ago."

"You've dated since then, right?" Josh opens the cooler sitting between them and fishes out another beer, wiping the bottle with a towel, then twisting the top off before handing it to Chase. 

"Thanks," Chase murmurs. "And, no. I've fucked, but haven't dated."

"But you don't want to fuck me?"

"Oh, no," Chase replies, finally breaking away from looking at the ocean and turning to face Josh. "Pretty sure I want to fuck you."

Josh's lips twitch minutely before his expression goes serious again. "But?"

"But…" Chase sighs and drags a hand over his face. "But I'm also pretty sure I'll want to keep you after I do."

"That plan definitely has merit," Josh says. 

"Don't be flip, Josh," Chase warns. "We don't even know each other."

"And you're not gonna let that happen, are you? You're gonna keep me at arm's length so that we _can't_ get to know each other." Josh rolls to a stand, looking down at Chase with the moon glittering behind him. "I hope this Steve is worth it."

"What?" 

"I hope he's worth the pedestal you have him on."

"Got no idea what you mean," Chase snaps, pushing off the chair and right into Josh's personal space. "Haven't seen him since I kicked him out, so this pedestal that you're talking about…"

"Is very real," Josh interrupts. "Otherwise you wouldn't be comparing everyone to Steve. You wouldn't be comparing me to Steve."

"I'm not," Chase denies, jerking back as if he'd been slapped. Josh is hitting too close to home, stripping him bare and leaving him raw.

"Aren't you? No dating, only fucking, right?" Josh pushes up to his toes and, with less than an inch separating them, growls, "Except you won't even fuck me because of a shadow of someone hanging over your head. You're souring everything you might have because you're too caught up with what happened before."

"Christ," Chase growls. "You talk too goddamn much."

Chase leans in – one hand reaching up to cup Josh's jaw, his thumb pressing tight against Josh's chin, and the other threading through shower-damp hair – intent on shutting Josh up with a brutal kiss. Then, when there's less than a hair's breadth between them, brutal morphs into sensual and Chase brushes his lips over Josh's, once and then once again. 

He keeps it easy and light, a steady pressure that demands nothing but, beneath the sounds of their breaths, asks for everything.

Chase licks at the seam of Josh's mouth, coaxing his lips apart. Then he licks again, into Josh's mouth, stealing Josh's taste and replacing it with his, claiming Josh just as surely as if he were using a branding iron. 

A groan echoes between them, skittering from Josh to Chase and then back again.

Josh's fingers curl tight around Chase's bicep, nails digging into the sinewy muscle. The warm, stinging pain collides with the burn in Chase's lungs and Chase decides that waiting for this, holding back for days – four _fucking_ days – was the dumbest idea he's ever had.

Head spinning, the need for air dancing on the rim of critical, Chase breaks the kiss. He nips Josh's bottom lip and then, when Josh arches into him, drags his lips over Josh's jaw to his ear, whispering, "Stop me now, Josh."

"Don't ask me to do that, Chase. Please don't," Josh groans.

The fingers in Josh's hair twist, pulling until Josh's head is tipped back, the cords in his neck straining. "You don't know what you're asking for."

"I think that I do –" Josh drops his gaze a fraction "– sir."

Chase growls low in his throat, and the hand cradling Josh's jaw tightens. It's the first time either of them acknowledged the power play flittering between them. And it goes straight to Chase's cock. "Pretty words from a pretty boy."

Defiance flashes lightning fast in Josh's eyes. "My safe word is shark and my truly hard limits are few and far between. No scat, limited blood play, breath play maybe, if we talk it out beforehand, and no bruising before a deep water dive. However, if you want to tie me up and spank my ass until it's cherry red, I'll kneel at your feet for _days_."

"Jesus fucking _Christ_ ," Chase hisses, arousal spiraling down his spine in greedy bursts of _yes, now, mine_. "You have got to be the mouthiest sub ever."

Then Chase reels Josh in closer, his hand moving from Josh's jaw to his ass, and Chase's fingertips dance along his cleft, pushing the fabric of Josh's threadbare cotton shorts in between his ass cheeks, nails scraping blunt over Josh's hole. Eyes fluttering shut, Josh moans, "Oh, fuck. _Please_."

"Maybe not so mouthy after all," Chase murmurs, slowly relaxing his grip until he can step back, putting a small distance between them. "You know nothing more can happen out here, right?"

"Chase, please," Josh whines. "Don't say that."

"Unless your dive kit is different than mine, we're missing key necessities. Things like lube and condoms." Chase smirks when Josh releases a high-pitched denial. "However, that doesn't mean that you can't park your ass in that chair and give me a show."

Josh licks his lips. "A show?"

"Yeah. I want to watch, want to see how you like it." Chase gives Josh a gentle push towards the chair and then steps back, and leans against the deck rail. "Come on, boy. Nice and slow, show me exactly what I'm missing."

Stripping out of his shorts, Josh drops onto a reclined deck chair. He wiggles and squirms, inching his ass closer to the edge of the chair, and then leans back, legs spread.

"Wider, Joshua," Chase directs. "I want to see you, all of you."

"Yes, sir," Josh whispers – _whimpers_ – and then he spreads his legs further, hitching them over the arms of the chair.

"Perfect."

Chase is surprised when Josh doesn't automatically reach for his dick. Surprised and very, _very_ pleased. Through the denim of his cutoffs, Chase palms the length of his cock. Squeezing and releasing. Then he trails his hands over his abdomen to his chest, mimicking Josh's movements. 

"Do you like nipple play?" Chase asks, circling his nipples. "Like to have them pinched and rolled? Sucked? Bitten?"

Nodding, Josh closes his thumb and forefinger around one nipple. "Oh, God. Chase…"

"Are they pierced?" Chase drops one hand back to his cock, thumbing the button of his denims open and working the zipper down. "Do you usually have gold hoops or silver barbells running through them? Something just waiting to be tugged and twisted?"

Josh's eyes close. "Yes, fuck… hoops. I took them out right before I boarded. Left 'em in my glove box. Didn't know if y'all would side-eye them or not."

"You'll put them back in as soon as we hit dry land tomorrow," Chase growls, fingers fluttering teasing light over his cock. "Open your eyes, Joshua. Watch me watching you. Watch what you do to me."

" _Chase_." Josh groans, opening his eyes.

"Right here, pretty," Chase murmurs, stepping closer. "God. The way you look. Wanton and spread out, eyes begging for more. I want to touch you, Josh. Want to kneel between your legs and lick into your ass. Wanna devour you, gorge myself on nothing but the taste of you and the ocean."

"Jesus." Josh wraps a dry hand around his cock.

Snatching a forgotten bottle of suntan oil from the floor, Chase moves into the space between Josh's legs. He flips the cap open and then, working his cutoffs low onto his hips with one hand, he tips the bottle, watching as oil streams down and over Josh's cock, trailing slick over his balls and down the crack of his ass.

The bottle slips from Chase's grasp, clattering against the deck floor. The scent of coconut fills the air, warring with the smell of sweat and salt air. 

"Yeah," Chase says, reaching down and rubbing the oil over Josh's hole. Pushing a finger into Josh's ass, he murmurs, "Don't stop."

Josh whines, needy and high-pitched, and Chase matches it with a groan. 

"Please, I need…"

"I know what you need," Chase whispers, sinking another finger unceremoniously into Josh's ass.

"Yes," Josh hisses. "Like that, _Christ_ , just like that."

"You like to be filled, don't you? Like the stretch and the burn?"

Josh gurgles low in his throat.

"That's it, just give it over to me," Chase says – _encourages and praises_ – his fingers thrusting fast and harsh into Josh's ass. "Come all over your hand, Joshua. Make a mess for me." Chase twists his fingers, pulls them out and comes back with three. "Come on, boy."

Panting, Josh shakes his head. "Not yet."

"Yes," Chase corrects, pushing his fingers in fast, curling them to hit just right deep inside. "Right now."

"Goddammit," Josh snaps, his body going taut as come splatters over his bunching stomach muscles.

Chase rides out the clench and release of Josh's ass around his fingers. Then, slipping his fingers free, he drags his hand through the cooling pool of jizz and wraps his fingers around his cock, pulling the length in steady, sure strokes.

Once, and twice, and once again.

Then, head thrown back, Chase comes, decorating Josh's balls with streaks of sticky semen.

Letting go of his cock, Chase sucks in one raspy breath after another. Slowly he goes to his knees, sliding through the spilled suntan oil. "Christ," he mutters, forehead resting on Josh's thigh. "Kate's gonna kick our ass for slopping this shit everywhere."

Josh's laughter echoes around Chase, tumbling out into the night and boomeranging back on the water's surface.

Lips curling into a satisfied grin, Chase chuckles with him.

* * *

"All aboard?"

"Mark never left and Josh is on the bow," Kate says when Chase sits down next to her. "Bottle of water in one hand, laptop in the other. Whatever he had to take care of on shore didn't take long at all. Matter of fact, you were gone longer than he was."

"Josh needed to get something out of his glove box." Just the idea that Josh is wearing his nipple rings has Chase's groin tightening.

"Well whatever he got," Kate shoots Chase an inquiring look, "your boy was eager to show when he came back on board."

"My boy?" He likes the sound of it. A lot. But there is no way he's going to tell Kate that. Not when he'll have to listen to her crow nonstop for the four days. 

Kate rolls her eyes. "It's the best explanation I could come up with."

"For what?" Chase asks, confused as all hell.

"The fact that more than half of my oil is gone."

Heat burns a path across Chase's face. "Yeah, there was a little mishap with that last night."

Kate bursts out laughing. "Only took four days for the pretty boy to wear you down? I'm kind of impressed."

Thinking about the way Josh went toe-to-toe with him, Chase snorts. "More like got all up in my face and gave me my druthers."

"Seriously?"

"Oh, yes," Chase says, laughing. "Jumped my shit left, right, and center last night."

"And you were left with no other option than to douse him in oil?"

"What you're thinking happened, didn't," Chase says. "I dropped the suntan oil. Made a fricking mess all over the deck. That shit is a pain in the ass to clean up, had to get the dish soap to cut through the slick."

"Oh," Kate says, deflating some. "I thought for a minute…"

"That I fucked him on the deck of Trent's precious Rapscallion? I value my balls too much to do that." He leaves out the fact that it was only the lack of rubbers that held him back. He also doesn't mention how his fast run home while they were docked took care of that problem.

"Like Trent would give a shit about that." Kate stares at Chase, eyes narrowed and brow furled together. The frown bleeds into a smile and she points a finger at him. "But there is something there! You didn't deny that part of it."

"There is potential for something there," Chase admits. "There's some talking to be done yet."

"Good," Kate states succinctly. "You needed someone to come in and shake your perfect little world up."

"Says you," Chase replies. "I feel like I've been on a blind dive since he came aboard."

"Good thing you like crazy shit like that, huh?"

"Whatever, Katydid." Chase ducks the slap Kate aims at his stomach. The nickname always gets that particular reaction. It's great for redirection. "I'm going to see if he's ready for tomorrow's dive."

"That's the excuse you're using?" Both of Kate's brows arch high beneath her bangs. "Really? You can't come up with something better?"

Rolling his shoulders in a lazy shrug, Chase says, "Don't have to, now do I?"

* * *

"Are those from this morning?"

Josh looks up from his laptop and smiles. "Yeah. Got some really good shots down there today."

Chase slaps Josh's foot lightly, smiling with approval when Josh swings his legs off the bench seat and shifts over, making room for Chase. Dropping down beside Josh, he scans the picture array. Frowning, he sets his water down and then pulls the computer closer, double clicking one picture and then another and then still another.

 _…him surrounded by a swirl of silverfish…his silhouette drifting above the wreck, three cobia between him and the high edge of the Thunderbolt. Blue water and the bright hues of the sponges the only color in the frame…an eel darting from between the corals and spiny oysters, the tips of his fingers in the edge of the frame…_

"These are… I thought you were down there to work, Josh." Chase taps the screen. "These are all of me."

Pink stains Josh's cheeks. "Maybe you were in the shots I needed."

"Whatever," Chase mutters.

"You were different down there today," Josh says. "Relaxed and open, having fun. It was very distracting."

"It's been a while since I let myself play on a dive." That's as much as Chase is willing to say about that. "I want a copy of these. They're really good."

Lips quirking, Josh nods. "Okay."

Chase stretches his legs out in front of him. "So, we should probably talk, huh?"

With a wary look, Josh asks, "About what happened last night or what's going to happen _because_ of last night?"

"Last night started out with some hard truths being flung around," Chase says, hoping Josh hears the important part in there. Josh was right. Chase has been hiding in the past. "But it ended on a really hot note. So if you want to spend time talking about that part of it, I can work with it."

Snorting, Josh pokes Chase in the side. "Or?"

"Or we can talk specifics, see if there's more between us than this ridiculously hot chemistry."

"Oh," Josh closes the laptop and pushes it to the side. "That sounds… Yeah, let's do that."

Chase cants his head to the side. From behind the mirrored protection of his sunglasses, Chase passes a sweeping look over Josh. The man really is far too pretty to be safe. He has no idea how he got in so deep so goddamn fast. "Where do you want to start?"

"With you," Josh says quickly. "I gave up more information last night than you did."

"Oh, yes. I remember exactly what you gave up last night. Vividly." When Josh huffs a laugh, Chase lets the smirk he's been holding back emerge. "Me, huh?"

"Please."

"Okay, then. I've been called both a militant Dom and a nurturer," Chase says, direct and to the point. If Josh is gonna scare, it's better for it to happen sooner rather than later.

Mouth dropping open, Josh blurts, "By the same person?"

"God, no," Chase replies. "Well, maybe once. Anyway, I like total control. Food, clothing, sex. I have issues with keeping it in the bedroom, about hiding. I spent years hiding who I am; I promised myself I'd never do that again. This isn't a game for me, Joshua."

"No," Josh whispers, "I can see that. Last night your focus was on me. You maneuvered me into a position where movement was at a premium, but never once did I feel like your focus was on your own pleasure."

Chase grunts his agreement. "It wasn't about mine."

"Exactly. You get off on taking care of your partner," Josh says, confidence oozing in his tone. "It's one of your kinks. Most likely the hardest of your kinks, the one you want fulfilled the most."

"Yeah," Chase admits, shaken by how fast Josh honed in on the truth of it. "Not really into hardcore playing. Spanking, bondage. Sweet, little doeskin floggers. Biting and marking, sucking bruises up all over you so everyone knows where I've been. I'm possessive like a son-of-a-bitch."

"Discipline?"

"Discipline or punishment?" Chase asks, eyebrow arching. "Punishment, an ass hot enough to make sitting down a chore. Discipline? Just enough to get your attention. If we agree to terms, I expect to be listened to. If something isn't working for you, I expect you to bring it up so we can sit and talk it out."

Chase grabs his water bottle and, tipping it back, drains it dry. Then, twisting the cap back on the plastic bottle, says, "Too much, not enough?"

"You didn't scare me off, if that's what you're wondering. And I can kinda see where both the militant and the nurturer comments came from," Josh replies. "What you're looking for, that total amount of control? That's built over time."

"It is," Chase agrees. Anyone who would expect that amount of control immediately is an idiot. "It comes with trust and commitment. Just being upfront about where I'd be headed."

Josh nods once. "Upfront is good. And, on that note, are you opposed to occasionally playing harder? Because there are times, few and far between usually, but there are times when I want to be worked over, pushed."

"I'm always open to negotiations, Joshua." Chase rolls his lips together. "It can't just be about what I want, or what you want."

"Give and take," Josh says, scooting in closer to Chase. "Wants and needs."

Chase wraps an arm around Josh's shoulders, pulling until they're pressed together. "Exactly."

"I want this, Chase," Josh says, the breath of his words rushing over Chase's chest. 

Closing his eyes, Chase rides out the stomach-rolling feeling of an uncontrolled descent. He takes one deep breath and then another, then says, "Me, too, Joshua. Me, too."

* * *

"God," Josh says, flopping back onto a deck chair. "The Bibb is awesome at night."

Kate snorts. "The Bibb is awesome anytime."

"I'll give you that," Josh says. "But it was crazy gorgeous tonight."

Laughing, Kate pushes to a stand. "You're as much of a dive junkie as Chase is. And," she draws the word out, "since you two are back onboard, I'm heading to bed. Tell Chase I said g'night, please."

"If he comes up," Josh says, only to be interrupted by Chase's rumbling voice.

"Good night, Kate."

Josh looks over the chair back. "How long have you been lurking in the dark?"

Chase busses a chaste kiss against Kate's temple as she passes by him and then says, "Long enough to know you think the Bibb is a pretty decent dive."

"It was my first time seeing it at night," Josh says. 

"First times always make an impression." Chase stops and flicks the gold hoop running through one of Josh's nipples and then bypasses the deck chairs, stopping in front of the single chaise bolted to the teak decking. He drops a towel and a blanket onto the side table.

" _Jesus_ , Chase." Josh licks his lips. "Your shorts."

Chase looks down and smirks. The cutoffs are low on his hips, the button open and the fly half down. His cock is hard and heavy, bulging tight against the frayed denim. Then, slipping two fingers into his left pocket, Chase pulls out two wrapped condoms. Arching a brow, he looks at Josh and asks, "Yes or no?"

Josh's eyes widen and his tongue darts out, swiping a fast path over his bottom lip. "Is that even a real question?"

Huffing a laugh, Chase tosses the condoms on top of the blanket and then works his fingers into his right pocket, coming back with a small bottle of lube. "You don't answer me, nothing will happen."

"Yes," Josh responds quickly, leaving no doubt that he wants this as much as Chase does. "Fuck, yes. Please."

Chase makes a show of pulling his zipper down, working his cutoffs low enough that his cock is completely exposed, and then he flips the top of the lube and slicks the fingers of one hand. Dropping his voice, Chase says, "Strip and come here, Joshua."

Josh uncurls from the chair and strips down. "You're the only who calls me Joshua."

"Good," Chase says, reclining back on the chaise and then manipulating Josh until he is on his knees, straddling the width of Chase's thighs. "Grab the back of the chair."

"It's a tell," Josh says, leaning forward and curling his fingers around the chair edge, pushing his ass out and adjusting his weight. "It lets me know how to respond, what headspace you're in."

"Yeah, it's a tell. And you're a very observant boy," Chase murmurs, slinking lower on the chair. When Josh's cock – his very fucking needy cock – is within easy reach, Chase, says, "Don't let go."

"No, sir. Not letting go."

With the breathy quality to Josh's voice, Chase isn't the least surprised to feel a tremor ripple through his boy's thighs. Josh is worked up. Anticipation is a heady thing. "Easy, pretty."

Then he pushes two fingers into Josh's ass and, simultaneously, swallows around the head of Josh's cock. 

"Jesus, fuck," Josh groans. Loudly.

Pulling back, Chase ignores Josh's displeased whine and says, "Hush, Joshua. We don't want our companions rushing to your rescue."

Another series of stuttered shaking vibrates beneath Chase's hand.

Chase crooks his fingers, dancing sure and swift over Josh's insides, sliding out and then in again, deeper. Then, when he's sure Josh isn't going to shout again, he flicks his tongue over the head of Josh's cock.

The air fills with the obscene. Licking and slurping, sex heavy moans and grunts, the squelch of lube, and gasps for breath, the tangy scent of sweat and soap, cock and sex, arousal. 

Reaching out, Chase searches blindly with one hand for the lube. He fumbles the little bottle, dripping slick on his denims and his cock, until he manages to make a little pool of glistening oil on his abs. He drags fingers through it, rubbing and coating, spreading the mess from his stomach to his hand, down through the dusty trail of hair leading to his dick. Then he works more fingers – two from each hand – into Josh's ass, giving him the thick bunch of four to fuck back on.

And then Josh starts to babble. A soft litany of words like _yes_ and _so good_ and _please, fuck_ and _need, need so much_ and, finally, a whispered, _Sir_.

The easy way Josh begs and pleads, his near incoherent mutterings, fills a place in Chase that has been empty for too long. It drives him to do more, to push Josh – push them both – higher, breaking the invisible chains that have them tethered to the ground.

Chase pulls back enough to whisper, "At your leisure, Joshua." Then, fingers pushing deep into Josh's ass, Chase propels Josh forward and swallows around his cock.

Precome bursts thick and strong over Chase's tongue. He varies his speed, sucks hard and fast and then backs off, laving Josh's dick with swirling licks, and works his fingers – sometimes two, more often four – into Josh's ass and then out and in again.

He's searching for more of Josh's distinct taste. Chase growls, approving, when Josh's cock jerks and another tiny gush of precome explodes in his mouth.

Josh trembles and, keening, curls his body forward. His ass clenches and releases, tightening around Chase's fingers. 

Chase groans when Josh shakes with release, come sliding down his throat and dribbling from the corners of his mouth. He finger fucks Josh through the aftershocks, and then gentles him down with softly spoken words – _so pretty… such a good boy… my Joshua…_ – and light brushings of his lips.

Slowly he pulls his fingers free and, after swiping his hands over his denims, Chase drags his hands over Josh's thighs, up to his waist. Guiding Josh to lie down beside him, he says, "Come on, pretty boy."

"You haven't," Josh whispers.

"Let me worry about me," Chase replies, pushing his cutoffs down and kicking them off. 

Josh makes a disgruntled sound. "But…"

"Joshua," Chase says, voice low and name stretched out. He pats the space beside him and grunts, "Now."

Josh closes his mouth, teeth clacking together and squirms into place, his back flush against Chase's chest, head pillowed on Chase's arm.

"Good boy," Chase says. "And, for the record, I am so far from done with you it isn't even funny."

"Oh," Josh sighs, pushing deeper into Chase's embrace. "Good."

Between languid touches, slow minutes pass in silence. Chase breathes in deeply, relishing in the combination of sex and satisfaction clinging to the humid night. Through force of will, he pushes his desire, his instinct to rut against Josh's ass to the side.

Finally, when he can trust his voice again, Chase says, "I want to take you out on my boat."

"Yeah," Josh replies, words just as quiet as Chase's. "Where to?"

Dragging a hand over Josh's chest, tugging gently on the hoops running through his nipples, "The middle of nowhere."

Josh looks back over his shoulder. "Huh?"

"One of those nights when you want to be worked over and the water is smooth as glass," Chase explains. "I want to go out to where no one else is and anchor, then tie you to the bow." Chase twists the one of Josh's nipple rings. "And then I want to make you scream. Want to hear all of your noises – all of the begging and the pleading, the little hitch that happens right before you come – I want it all and I want it on the water, where there is nothing to slow it down, to buffer it."

"Oh, fuck," Josh groans, grinding back on Chase's dick.

"Wanna start with a soft doeskin flogger," Chase murmurs, words sluggish and slurred. "Then, when you're skating the edge of your high, back all nice and warm, when you're begging for me to fuck you, I want to use the bullwhip. Three or four or five – you can take five, maybe six for me, can't you, boy?"

"Christ. _Please_."

"Five," Chase says. "Five times with the leather cracking the air and then dancing across your skin."

Another boat motors by and the Rapscallion rocks in the wake. Chase's body follows the easy roll of the boat, and his cock, hard and wet at the tip, drags over Josh's ass and all thoughts about what he wants to do, about taking Josh out on his boat, skitter away. The arousal, the need and the want, that he'd banked earlier, crashes over him, greater and stronger and refusing to be ignored. 

Through gritted teeth, Chase sucks in a breath. And then another and another.

"Jesus." Chase can hear the need in his own voice, strained and so very near the breaking point. Turning onto his back, Chase reaches out and snags a condom. "Joshua…"

"Sir?" Josh says, his voice cracking when he turns and looks at Chase. 

"Still open and wet?" Chase hopes – _prays_ – the answer is yes. That he can just pull Josh into his lap and sink into his fucking hole. That he can take and take and, goddamn well, _take_.

Josh reaches a hand behind him and, eyes fluttering shut, chokes out, "Oh, yes, sir. Very open."

"Thank fuck," Chase grunts, tugging on Josh's arm and manhandling Josh.

For the second time, Josh is straddling Chase's thighs. Only this time, Josh is facing away from Chase and his ass is swaying mere inches away from Chase's face. Closing his eyes, hiding from the temptation to bite and mark, Chase palms the globes of Josh's ass, squeezing them together and then pulling them apart. 

He blinks his eyes open and, moving one hand to Josh's hip and the other to his cock, says, "Lean back, baby. Just sit back and slowly take me in."

Chase watches as Josh, his hands planted on the chaise between Chase's legs, eases back. Enthralled by the bunch and release of muscles, the tangible ripple of Josh's control.

Then his cockhead bumps against Josh's hole. A temporary resistance that quickly gives way to a gripping heat. 

"Yeah," Chase huffs out, the hand on his cock trailing over Josh's ass and clamping tight around his hip.

He waits until Josh bottoms out, until his dick is buried root to tip, and, with a loose hold on Josh's hips, Chase guides him back up again. "Just like that, nice and slow."

Josh repeats the motion – down and then up and then down again – and, as he's pushing back again, he clenches his muscles.

"Christ," Chase barks out, surprised and so goddamn close to shooting off he's embarrassed. "Again."

"Yes, sir," Josh groans, riding the length of Chase's cock again. And again. And yet again.

Chase snakes a hand around and fondles Josh's cock, pinching the head lightly, giving Josh a loose tunnel to fuck into each time he rocks forward.

"Shit, fuck, _fuck_ ," Josh whines. "Too soon, _Chase_ , sensitive, not gonna come again…"

"Doesn't mean I can't play," Chase returns. Toes curling, he grunts, "Harder, Joshua."

And everything goes from molasses slow to free-drop fast.

Josh slams back, and Chase grinds up. Josh's cock jerks as he trembles through a near dry orgasm. The tiny spurt of come lands slick and hot on Chase's fingertips.

"Jesus," Chase gasps, the tingling in his balls spiraling outward hot and fast. "Jesus, fuck."

And he comes. And fucking comes.

Panting – in through the nose, out through the mouth – Chase squeezes his eyes shut and starts pulling himself together.

It takes longer than he expects. 

Back under control, he says, "Rise up, baby. Let's get cleaned up and comfortable."

Chase waits until Josh leans forward and works the condom off. He grabs the towel and does a cursory wipe of his cock and Josh's ass, and helps Josh stretch out in the vee of his legs. Rubbing Josh's thigh, he asks, "Okay?"

"More than," Josh mumbles.

Chase flicks the blanket out and over them. "Sleep, boy. I'll wake you up in the morning."

* * *

Chase comes awake to the sound of someone trying to sneak around him. "You make more noise than a herd of elephants, Kate."

"Jackass," she whispers. "You've got about a half hour before Mark will be up. Might want to get Josh downstairs, yeah?"

"Yeah." Chase scrubs a hand over his face and then slowly opens his eyes. "Thanks for the wake up call."

"Not just that," Kate replies, holding up two travel mugs of steaming coffee. 

"God, yes." Chase grabs one of the offered mugs and, working around the bundle curled against his chest, takes a long swallow. "What do I owe the room service to?"

"I like Josh," she returns. "Not so sure about your grumpy ass though."

Chase flips her off, choosing another mouth full of coffee over exchanging barbs. 

Kate chuckles softly and starts backing away. "You take clean up when we get home and I might not even tell Trent about this little love affair."

"Overplayed, Katydid," Chase drawls. "We'll clean her down together because if you tell Trent my secret, I'll rat you and Hector out. Do you really think I don't know what you two got up to on the Jolly Rodger?"

The blush that stains Kate's cheeks is totally worth the fact that she found him with his bare ass flapping the breeze. Totally fucking worth it.

* * *

Chase isn't surprised to see Trent waiting for them when they dock. The older man nods towards Mark and Josh, and then offers a hand to Kate as she levers herself from the boat to the dock. Grasping Chase's wrist, he says, "Welcome home."

"I don't know," Chase returns. "I was having a pretty good time out there."

"You should've been born with gills, kid," Trent mutters.

Grinning, Chase shakes his head. "You say that every time, old man."

"'S true, no reason to say anything else." Then Trent turns to Mark Jacobs. "Got everything you needed out there?"

"We did," Mark says. "I think Josh and Chase spent more time in the water than on the boat though."

Chase lets Trent's raspy laugh wash over him. "That one of mine wouldn't ever come in if I left it up to him."

"I think he met his match in old Josh," Mark replies.

Trent looks back to Chase, one gray eyebrow arcing high. The silent question is one that Chase expected. "Really, now?"

Instead of answering, Chase says, "You gonna get him signed out while I help Josh load all of their equipment?"

"That would be great," Mark says. "I've promised Josh the rest of the week off. Five days, nothing 'til Monday. Right, Josh?"

"That's right." Josh cuts a glance at Chase. "Just got to get you home first."

"And I'm holding that up with all my chatter," Trent says. "Come on, Katie, let's get the last of the paperwork done. We'll get these two on their way and, after we put the old girl to rights, you and Chase can get out of here yourself."

Chase watches the trio until they're a few steps from the High Seas office door. "Five days, huh?"

"Yeah, Mark told me while you and Kate were tying us off." Josh grabs two of the bags and, after Chase grabs the other two, starts walking towards the parking lot. 

Soon as they toss the bags into the back of Josh's pick-up, Chase crowds against Josh until they're flush, chest to chest, and Josh's back is tight against the truck. Lips twitching, he repeats, "Five days, huh?"

Grinning, Josh says, "Five days."

Dragging one hand over Josh's chest, Chase teases, tugs the golden hoops through the stretched cotton. "Wanna see about putting more of those negotiations into practice?"

"Oh," Josh pushes in closer to Chase. "Fuck, yes."

"Good boy," Chase murmurs, mouthing the words against Josh's skin. "Take Mark home, grab yourself a shower – a very thorough shower that does not include playing with that pretty cock – and then get your ass back to my place on North Hammock Road."

"North Hammock," Josh repeats.

"Just look for my jeep." Chase pulls on Josh's nipple again, twisting until Josh pushes onto his toes. "Bring a change of clothes and a pair of trunks. I'm not letting you leave until it's absolutely necessary."

"Jesus," Josh whimpers. "Clothes and trunks."

Chase eases back, releasing the grip of his thumb and forefinger, and rubs gentle circles over the pebbled nub. Then, when he hears Mark and Trent coming up behind him, he says, "Two hours, pretty."

"Yes, sir," Josh whispers.

"And, Joshua," Chase leans in close and, nipping Josh's ear, adds, "come back ready to beg. I plan to play hard tonight."

Josh swallows once. Then, breath shaky, says, "If you don't want me hitting my knees right here, _stop fucking talking_. Please."

Snorting, Chase moves to Trent's side and watches as Josh and Mark finish loading up and pull out into the light flow of traffic. "Think I can manage a few days off, boss?"

"A few days?" Trent repeats. "Someone is going to have to tell me exactly what happened out there."

"Sure you want the details?" Chase asks, smirking.

"Boy, if you had relations on the Rapscallion, I'm gonna kick your sorry ass."

Laughing, Chase claps Trent lightly on the back. "Come on. I'll tell you a story while I wash the Rapscallion down."

"A story?"

"Yup," Chase replies, nodding. Then, looking out over the water, squinting his eyes against the glare of sun, he says, "It's all about heartache and healing and a certain pretty boy who didn't know how to leave well-enough alone."

∴ ◊ ∴ ◊ ∴


End file.
